


Lake of Ink

by Sage_S_Adoren



Series: The Rorschach's Swan [1]
Category: Watchmen (2009), Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anya Has Issues, Childhood Friends, Dark, Dark story with a delightfully comedic character, F/F, F/M, Past Child Abuse, Redemption, Rorschach Has Issues, Rorschach gets better, Rorschach-typical Bigotry, They are perfect for each other, Tragedy/Comedy, anya takes no shit, because he deserves it lets be real, he examines his personal biases, pre-watchmen, she punches rorschach, these two have issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage_S_Adoren/pseuds/Sage_S_Adoren
Summary: I'm a crime fighter by night and a ballet dancer by day. I work for my end meat and make enough to support myself. I've had a rough life filled with even rougher people. It's never been easy. I kill people who abuse others and I pride myself on being a dangerous person to deal with. My name is Black Swan.Okay, okay, you got me. That's my "hero" alias. I'm actually just a gal who really likes to dance and sing and kill pedophiles for sport. I do have an interesting story to tell though. My name is Anya Lebanov. And this is the story of how I found my best friend once more.
Relationships: Dan Dreiberg/Laurie Juspeczyk, Laurie Juspeczyk/Dr. Manhattan, Rorschach/Black Swan, Rorschach/Original Character, Walter Kovacs/Anya Lebanov, Walter Kovacs/Original Character
Series: The Rorschach's Swan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908028
Kudos: 1





	Lake of Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> So, finally huh?
> 
> This is a sequel of sorts to my old, old story from 2015 called “Once Upon A Time” based off of Walter Kovacs and my OC Anya. I have a lot of fondness for that story and really want to rewrite it to be better because, let’s face it, I’ve improved A LOT in 5 years… holy shit has it really been five years?! What the fuuuuu-
> 
> Anyway, just a quick warning, this story has a lot of changes that kind of combine the movie and the book (I love both so much guys please) so if there are some weird age stuff, don’t worry, I figured out a good excuse for most of the stuff. 
> 
> One other thing - the character of Walter Kovacs/Rorschach and his fucking awful politics… I’m a non-binary trans person who is also native american and has very left leaning politics. I have no fucking clue why 15-year-old me liked Rorschach or fangirled over the fucker. He’s an incel and I frankly have no sympathy for people like that. 
> 
> However, Alan Moore clearly knows how to write a compelling character like that and he does a good job at letting us know that Rorschach is kind of an asshole and he is wrong. In this story, I’m going to do my best to make the perspective of Rorschach’s and Walter’s change over time, considering the kind of character Anya is and the life she has had. I want to change his mind about a lot of his dehumanizing opinions.
> 
> She punches him a lot too in this story. 
> 
> Is this just me expressing frustration at the current political climate and just how much Trump has fucked up America? Yup. Am I getting catharsis out of the character of Anya punching the character of Walter/Rorschach? Definitely. 
> 
> Oh no… this is also a romance story… Fuuuuuu-
> 
> Let me clear something up - Walter Kovacs’s nasty opinions about women and LGBT people and shit does change in this story. He learns to understand nuance and the struggles of people like Anya (who is totally opposite from him in politics) and this is kind of a story about two very broken people finding comfort in each other. 
> 
> Also, it isn’t Anya who changes him. It’s himself. Walter is smart and I have no reason to believe that, pre-Rorschach, he couldn’t have taken a moment to examine his biases and personal beliefs. That is ultimately what gets someone like Walter, an alt-right person, out of the rabbit hole. The nazi taking responsibility for their own actions and getting out by themselves. 
> 
> Anyway, MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING FOR - rape, child-abuse, pedophilia, human trafficking, and probably a lot more shit down the road. 
> 
> This story has some DARK themes to it. 
> 
> Anyway, on with the show!

* * *

_“She is dangerous when she is hurt. She can easily destroy everything around her, but she doesn’t. Instead, she destroys herself.”_

Aletta S.

* * *

_August 12th, 1985_

“Fucking bitch!”

The pedophile screamed at me. He charged me with a knife and took a good swing. He missed clearly otherwise I wouldn’t be here to write this story. Anyway, I grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him over my shoulder. Now, I’m a tiny dainty girl, I bet he thought I was weak. 

His mistake.

With a single fluid motion and wasting no time, I drew my knives and stabbed the fucker in the back while he was on his stomach. With a twist, he groaned in pain and as I pulled out my knives, he was bleeding out. His weak whimpers and groans were not nearly enough to phase me. His beady eyes gazed up at me with terror and fear as I collected whatever I could find for myself. I deserved some reward for my troubles finding this bastard. 

The police - useless as they were - could not help me with ending this miserable piece of shit’s existence. He was white and straight and had some money (any of which that I found, I took) - the police wouldn’t have done anything about the fact that William Prince was a pedophile and a child-rapist. Such was the system that we are born into. Favouring the wealthy and the privileged. 

I wouldn’t say I did this entirely for money, that wasn’t true and I never like to say so. I suppose I could say that I also did it for retribution and revenge. People always say revenge is bad, but never give so much as a nuanced brain fart in thinking about what they are saying. Buzzwords and all. 

I collected any money I could find and made my escape seamlessly. It was almost too easy. Men like this thought they were untouchable but they never accounted for who I was and what I did. I was a shadow, working tirelessly to rid the world of the monsters who lurked in it. 

There may be nuance in the world, shades of greys. But the black parts of it have to be exterminated. There is no excuse for pedophilia or raping of children.

That’s what I do by night. I hunt down people who have had convictions of pedophilia or such other nasty charges and I murder them for sport. I’m called a killer, a monster, a hero, a punisher. But I prefer the moniker of Black Swan, as the media had loved to label me. It makes sense considering the only time I ever left a trail behind was when a single black feather fell from my dress. 

I was inexperienced, what can you say? 

I’ve been rambling for far too long about myself. I suppose I should move on.

I mentioned that I am a crime fighter (er, killer) by night. But during the day I have a far more lax job. I’m a performer, a ballet dancer. I work for my end meat and make enough to support myself and occasionally spoil myself on cute clothes.

I’m a lady with taste, leave me alone. 

You’re probably wondering - “oh, who is this mysterious lady who is called the Black Swan?? And what is this damn story about besides the wafflings of a madwoman???” - well…

My name is Anya Lebanov. And this is the story of how I found my best friend once more. 

* * *

_October 12th, 1975_

Madame Giry had contacted me again. She hasn’t done so in literal years so I hadn’t the faintest clue what the woman wanted from me. Well, I had an idea but assumed it wasn’t going to be good, especially for me. But curiosity killed the cat, so to speak. Her initial letter intrigued me.

_“I need a favor to ask of you, Anya. I don’t want you back in my bar because let’s be real, you already paid off your debt. I need something else from you. But I’d much rather us talk in private than risk someone seeing this. Love you, Madame Giry~”_

Let me back up. Madame Giry was my former Madam, a crime boss. She was the woman who took me in and raised me, trained me to be a killer and provided me protection to also be a sex worker (which I was before I had even met her), and had me kill a bunch of people she didn’t like. She let me go after my last job for her and never bothered me since.

Until today. 

So here I was, standing in front of the bar that she owned and ran, which doubled as one of her headquarters. I stepped into the place, with two very big dudes eyeing me up with suspicion and interest. The sexy kind, not the innocent kind. It was kind of crazy inside, exactly as I remembered it. 

People were up and about, men being waited on by beautiful ladies (some of which I’ve had encounters with) and generally speaking, a very crazy atmosphere. Some of the clients and old coworkers recognized me, I noticed, but that wasn’t my concern at the moment. I would find time to talk to some of my old coworkers and beat up old clients another day. Right now, Madame Giry was my target. 

She was exactly where I figured she would be - in her office, overlooking paperwork and documents of all sorts. Blackmail, I imagine. She had plenty of people under her belt. Colleagues who did nasty things. Police officers who could be fired and sent to prison for their transgressions. 

Madame Giry was a woman in her 50ties while I was 23. She was still a good looking woman for her age. Greying hair, blue eyes, tan skinned, excellent facial structure. A bit on the chubby side, but by no means was that unappealing. Some would have even claimed that she was a siren disguised in human form. 

I don’t know if that is entirely a false assessment. 

“Ah, Anya, nice to see you again, dearest.” Madame Giry exclaimed with a happy tone. She wasn’t faking it. After years of working for this woman, I knew her very well. “I’m so glad you could make it! You were always a practical one.” 

Buttering me up, huh? Come on, Giry, you must have something for me that I won’t like.

“Cut the chase, Giry. What do you want from me?” I snapped to her. I didn’t have time for this.

She laughed with the haughtiness that makes you think ‘what an insufferable bitch.’ I didn’t know what to expect from her and frankly, in retrospect, I kind of wish I hadn’t asked. She gave me a look over before smiling with a far more business-like gleam in her eyes. 

“Never one for small-talk, huh? I remember that.” She started before her eyes turned cold and hard. “I want to hire you.” 

I wanted to laugh in her face, turn away and walk out the door then and there. Seriously? After what had happened the last time I worked for her, what the hell made her believe I would take that deal? Well, my curiosity overtook my sense of anger (damn you, curiosity!!!) and I gave her an intrigued look. She smirked at my expression, which I knew was rather confused and suspicious looking. 

“Right, you want to hire me.” I began, turning away to think for a moment, or at least to give the impression that I was. “For what?”

“Well, you see, I’m a rather busy woman, and I have a lot of… enemies in my business. I’ve been threatened before and harassed, nearly killed. However, I was recently sent this.” She pulled out a box from under the table and slid it to me, gesturing for me to open it. If I had been younger, I would have thrown up, but now, it would take far more than a severed head. It was a woman’s head - I didn’t recognize her. 

I knew Madame Giry would explain.

“This is- well, _was_ a very special person to me. She was like you, Anya, special. Talented. You were the best of the best, my dear, but she was just as close to you in that regard. I cared about her just as much as I care about you.” Giry continued, looking back up at me. I knew she was full of shit. She replaced me easily. There were plenty of people like me who were broken and needed help. 

“Right, I was the best at my job. You raised me to be a killer and you got that. You helped me, and then had me work. I never questioned it until-” I growled but was cut off by her.

“-Until you failed and nearly died. That is why I let you go, though. I couldn’t see you suffering like that again.” She murmured, though I heard her just the same.

“Right, and you left me to the wolves! I was alone and with no help. And what did you do? Nothing!” I yelled at her, as she remained calm and collected. 

“I knew I couldn’t remain in contact. You were recovering and if I was still in contact, someone would have killed you just to get to me.” I decided not to comment on that. She clearly knew when to stop as she continued with the job offer. “Her name was Bella Fredricks. And somebody murdered her. I need you to find out who and kill them.”

I wasn’t going to take the job. Why should I do this after so many years of radio silence from her?! Even for money, which I was sure was good. I rolled my eyes, and headed for the exit. Her voice stopped me though. What she said next changed my mind entirely. 

“Anya, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone after you healed. I was wrong. But Bella isn’t the only one. This isn’t an isolated incident. A lot of my workers have been found murdered…” She said, with what sounded like genuine sorrow in her voice. I paused. 

These women were like me. Broken, with no one else to turn to. Some were like me, trained killers and workers for Giry. Many more were also like me, sex workers trying to make a living and provide for themselves and their families. And now they were being butchered one by one. Madame Giry was many things, but she didn’t let clients who abused and hurt her workers go free. And for the safety of the rest of my peers, I needed to do something about it.

“No pay.” I stated, turning back to face her. “I want no money from this.”

“Anya, please-”

“No, I do not want to be paid for this. I’m doing this to protect my friends and former colleagues, not for money. I get plenty of that from other sources.” I stated firmly, there was no room for arguments. Giry lifted her hands up in surrender and nodded once. 

“All right. Let me give you all the information I have regarding the murders.” She said as she pulled out a folder and gave it to me. I looked it over and saw several police reports of prostitutes being murdered and left with scars on their bodies. As I examined them closely, I saw that they weren’t random scars, but words written on bodies. They were names of sex workers, all of which were seemingly random, but all of them were workers under Madame Giry’s care.

Fucking yikes. 

“Don’t worry, Giry.” I said with a very cold voice. I feared that if I let any emotion seep into my words that I would break down into furious tears. “I’ll find this fucker and murder him, and whoever hired him.”

I was gone before she could say anything else. 


End file.
